


Vincula | Tubbo & Dream | Firefly Siblings

by AlexandraMariaAnna



Category: Dream SMP - Fandom, Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF, mcyt
Genre: Gen, HERE WE ARE AGAIN, I mean, So yea, anyways if you're reading my tags, but - Freeform, congrats on gaming dream, fireflytwt has been giving me massive brainrot, go check out the artists i credited in the summary, i also realised i screwed myself over with making tubbo this young, i can work with that, i just, im so sleepy i was up until 5 am watching the streamys, lays down and cries, not me researching development of kids, obligatory not a native speaker warning, their work is amazing and I don't think i lived up to that lmao, they have such a sibling chemistry in recent streams i'm just sitting here, yeah - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-14
Updated: 2020-12-14
Packaged: 2021-03-10 18:35:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,662
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28031727
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlexandraMariaAnna/pseuds/AlexandraMariaAnna
Summary: What is a man to do?---Loosely inspired by @naerun's and @fuckgogy's art they created for Fireflytwt!I made this purely out of spite because I don't think Dream would just abandon Tubbo without reason.And when I write reasons for anything, it's almost always pain.
Relationships: Brotherhood - Relationship, Clay | Dream & Toby Smith | Tubbo
Comments: 18
Kudos: 191





	Vincula | Tubbo & Dream | Firefly Siblings

**Author's Note:**

> Firefly AU: Dream and Tubbo are brothers. That's it. That's the AU.
> 
> The Land = The Dream SMP  
> I couldn't use the original name since it implies that it's a game and I didn't want that here.  
> Also, most things here are non-canon (all of them, actually), and are just born of my imagination attempting to explain logically the creation and existence of the server.  
> Some things stray from the plotline.

_What is a man to do when his home is burning down?_

The bundle in Dream’s arms shifted as he stood and stared, not quite sure what his next move was going to be. The fire roared and the sparks danced over the carnage that swallowed The Good Grace House, bodies he didn’t quite recognize brushing past him as they either scrambled away from the yellow and red, or towards it, in their hands buckets of water, screams for survivors on the tip of their tongues. Still, aside from the shouts of the self-assigned firefighters, and the wail of the fire in front of him, it was quiet. Who lived? Who perished when the roof collapsed, taking the common room and the north bedrooms with it? Were they the only ones who got out? 

Someone was speaking to him, but his eyes were stuck on an odd shape that peeked out from under one of the bigger pieces of wood, crackling and snapping in the immense heat. It almost looked like a hand; he didn’t want to think about the implications of that train of thought. The bundle in his arms let out a noise and Dream, snapped out of this stupor, gently lifted the corner of the blanket to reveal the face of his barely one-year-old brother. His eyes, even though sleep-locked and drooping, were wide and oblivious to the disaster that just struck both of them, and as Dream gently rubbed the child’s cheek, the child laughed, nuzzling his face into the hand that comforted him. A passerby dropped a thin blanket on top of Dream’s trembling shoulders, and that was the last of familiar warmth he would feel for a while. 

Holding onto the reason for his existence, he disappeared into the night, leaving his past in the wallowing blaze. 

*** 

_What is a man to do when he wasn’t taught how to handle life?_

Tubbo was growing astoundingly fast, and it scared Dream to the bone. They couldn’t have been on the road for more than a month, but he was already trying to walk, wobbling around every time they settled down for rest. He was also trying to speak; syllables lost in the bubbles of spit but still there, often being the only man-made noise dream would hear for ages. The young boy found comfort in the sound, the random melodies Tubbo would mutter against his back as they walked, and he would talk back to him, speak about random things, laugh, and wait for another “la” or “bo” to be his answer. 

It was their own little adventure, and they had each other. It was enough. 

Still, Dream was just a five-year-old boy with the weight of the world on his back, and, aside from what he learned from the ladies at The Good Grace House, he didn’t know much about raising a child. Thus, while he was still finding out new things day by day (things like the fact that babies sleep a lot and while they do that, they drool like a fountain; how many times did Dream had to wash his shirt after only a day? He didn’t know), he sought wisdom in the villages they visited along the way. Many a lady offered to take them in, but when Dream closed his eyes, he could still see fire, and he politely declined every time he was offered a bed under a roof. Each house smelled like soot and coal, and with handfuls of food he left behind a chance for a normal life every time, Tubbo warm against his back. 

It was them against the world, and as his brother clung to his chest as they once again slept under the stars, Dream wholeheartedly believed that this was the happiest he has ever been. 

*** 

_What is a man to do when life gets tough and all you know is how to run and hide?_

The last thing that Dream expected while on his journey with Tubbo, was for a war to break out. Everything was suddenly duller, more challenging – he didn’t really understand what war was back then, but when he swung by a village one day just to be met with a pile of burning bodies, he has never felt more hopeless; and as he ran out of the small settlement, making sure that Tubbo wasn’t looking in the direction of the fire, the severity of the situation hit him all at once. Still, they pressed on, hiding from patrols and marching companies covered from head to toe in diamond and iron. No one told him who the war was between. Then again, he wasn’t interested, always focused on his and his brother’s survival first, and the world second. 

Food was getting harder to get – no one was willing to just give it up anymore, and Dream ended up doing small manual labor tasks for wealthier houses, in exchange for coins or food. The ladies of the houses adored his brother, and while he was working in the kitchens or the garden, Tubbo was a pet powdered ladies would coo over for hours. This was also a way for him to obtain clothes for his younger brother, as the women would play dress-up with the child, often letting him keep the clothes as he left. A pair of pants, a dress, a shirt; Dream was glad that his bag was filling up. It meant they could stay away from settlements, away from the conflict. 

Still, they couldn’t run away from it forever. 

A couple of days after Tubbo spoke his first words, a memory that will forever remain embedded deep in Dream’s memory, a platoon of soldiers pained in red and yellow stumbled upon their camp. Though Dream resisted with all his strength, he, alongside his brother, was still dragged to a “refugee camp”, as the men called it. No matter how much the boy screamed about not being involved with any of the sides of the conflict, he was still a child, and he was easily overpowered. The only worry he had at that point was if Tubbo was safe – he stopped showing defiance once he noticed that one of the soldiers carried him in front, the boy’s head resting gently against the battered shoulder plate. Their eyes met for a moment, and when his brother smiled widely at his sight Dream convinced himself that as long as they would be together things wouldn’t be that bad. 

*** 

_What is a man to do when he is given a choice no man should make?_

Dream’s lungs burned as he ran, holding Tubbo as close as he could to his body, avoiding the blinding lights that swept the area. A month of being locked up with hundreds of other children was enough, and he took the first chance he could to make a break for it, escaping under the fence during bathing hours. He was aware that it would be seconds before the guards noticed the cut open fence or the lack of familiar faces in the sleeping quarters, so he pushed all the adrenaline he had in his body, every last ounce of strength in his thin limbs out, to get as far as he could before the dogs would start to bark, before whistles would split his eardrums. 

It was a summer evening, and Dream gasped for air as the first shout rang from the direction of the camp. Tubbo was awake, gripping onto his shirt for dear life, seemingly aware of the gravity of the situation. Dark spots were dancing in front of the young runner’s eyes, and he let out a dry cough in a desperate attempt to keep up the momentum. Still, the sounds were getting louder, and Dream ducked behind a rock, his pounding heart louder than the dogs and the animals that led them. His brother blubbered under his breath, and Dream ran a hand through his brown locks lovingly, his brain working in overdrive. 

There were two roads he could take. The first one, one that he didn’t want to even consider, was to just surrender to the pursuers and hope for the best. Still, he knew what happened to many of those who tried to run just by the fact they never came back; in the best scenario they were taken somewhere else, somewhere they couldn’t escape. In the worst one, the meadows outside the camp would be the last thing they see. 

The second road meant running for as long as he could, sprinting until he reached a road and praying to get to a settlement in which he could hide until the pursuers stopped searching for him. It was a naïve scenario, but it was the polar opposite of the first one and that gave him the smidge of hope he needed.

In both of these cases, however, Tubbo had low chances of survival. 

Not only was he heavy – he was growing up fast, and Dream, even though he was cunning and resourceful, was still just a kid, and his strength couldn’t be compared to that of an adult – but also awkward to carry while running around. Still, he couldn’t just leave his younger brother behind, one that he walked through hell and back with, and, as the whistles came close and closer, he felt iron on his tongue as he bit his cheek so hard it bled. In a moment of clarity, he set his brother down gently, making sure he was hidden between the rocks well enough that he wouldn’t be spotted if someone wasn’t looking for him specifically. Still, that was not enough – Tubbo was a big kid already, and he moved constantly. 

He could feel the cold sweat pouring down his back, staining his simple shirt, as he grabbed a cardboard box that laid abandoned near a trash pile and gently placed it on top of his brother’s head. The child looked at him questioningly, and with tears in his eyes, Dream placed a finger on his lips, giving him one last instruction, one that he has been teaching him since they started their journey. 

“Shh.” he whispered, and Tubbo smiled, his face brighter than the sun itself. Like commanded, he instantly went quiet, but Dream knew that wasn’t enough, so he threw his satchel full of personal items – the photo of all kids from the orphanage that was salvaged from the fire, change of clothes wrapped up in a green bandana, the drawings Dream made on salvages scraps of paper to entertain his brother – It was something to occupy his hands with until he came back. He had to stay safe. He was all that he had.   
“I’ll be back soon, I promise. Shh.” he muttered, and brought the box down so it would cover his entire body. It didn’t move; Tubbo was obediently staying silent, and Dream felt a tinge of pride run through his chest as he looked at it for the last time, before bolting out from behind the rock running in the opposite direction of it. 

He just needed to lose the pursuers, come back, and go back to journeying with his brother. They will grow up together, and he will teach him anything he needs to survive in this cruel world. Oh, he will have to learn how to cook well, children need to eat a lot to grow up well, and if his brother is anything like him, he’ll turn out to be a glutton. Dream wondered if his brother will come to love chess as he does, what will his favorite color be, who will he become in the future? They will eventually have to find a place to live, but they can handle that together, they only need to get far enough to not be bothered by any conflict. 

Dream’s lungs burned as he took yet another right, weaving between trees like prey running away from the predator. Through the thundering of blood in his ears, he heard the neighing of horses, and his face lit up in hope. There was a settlement nearby – there was a light at the end of the tunnel. 

He reached out towards the noise, and his knees, burned through with constant sprint, buckled under his small form. 

Teeth and claws. 

*** 

_What is a man to do when he is captured?_

He suffers. 

*** 

_What is a man to do when the thing he lived for is no longer there?_

He wasn’t there. 

Of course, he wasn’t there, months have already passed since he left him at the rocks. Not even the box remained, not the bandana, not the photos or drawings. 

“Hey. I’m back.” 

He stared at the rock, his eyes empty and distant. He was so cold, even though the oversized clothes that covered his body should be cozy and warm, properly insulating him against the January wind. At his side a sword, on his back a shield; he was still Dream, but was he Tubbo’s Dream? He sacrificed his freedom for survival and for his brother not to be pursued, but now he didn’t know what he should do. 

Tubbo was most likely dead, torn apart by wild animals. He could barely walk, there was no way he could have run away in face of danger. The things left behind were picked up by occupants of the village that was supposed to be his salvation a year ago, and now the ground was bare, taunting him, injecting him with invisible venom that spread through his entire body, bringing wetness to the corner of his eyes. 

He lived through hellish training, punishments, and hunger to come back here, and, though it was naïve and foolish, somewhere deep within he still believed that his brother would be sitting under a box by the rock where he left him, playing with the crinkling paper. He grit his teeth as the soldiers abused him in hand-to-hand combat, thinking of a smile that made the rain clouds part and the fire die down. 

Dream became a soldier, a killer, a murderer, the exact opposite of what he aspired to be just a year ago, and now his reason for abandoning morality dissipated in the morning dew like a taunting illusion. He tasted iron on this tongue as silent tears rolled down his face, taking the roads marked by the claw and teeth marks left by the hunting dogs like rivers that knew no delta. Something clawed up his throat, but he swallowed it back down, wiping his face with the sleeve of his uniform. 

A seven-year-old child, forced to grow up too fast. 

“Dream! Hurry up, we’re heading out!” he heard from beyond the trees, and with a deep sigh that made his chest hurt even more than it already was, he pulled on his mask, one that hid the scars and the lack of depth in his eyes. He took one last glance at the rock, and it was silent in his head and around him. Whispering a plea for forgiveness, he walked away, his body heavy. 

“Coming, George.” 

*** 

_What is a soldier to do when the war is over?_

“I’m thinking of heading north.” George mused one day while on a break. It was a pleasant evening, and as the war was heading to a close, the fighting grew more and more scarce, to the point that most of the soldiers were well-slept and much more optimistic. On that particular evening, everyone got a day off, no training, no cleaning; the promise of a peace treaty between the two countries that have been warring for six years was like honey on scarred hearts. 

“Do you mean with the company, or-”   
“No, no. After the war ends.” he laughed and Dream stared at him questioningly, his hand pausing the circular motions with which he was polishing his sword. “I heard people talking that there is a giant chunk of unclaimed land there. They say it’s cursed, but I don’t believe it.” George added, and Sapnap, who was scribbling down something in his notebook until that point in the conversation, snorted, earning a frown from his friend. “What’s so funny about this?”   
“Nothing, nothing, it’s just-” he wheezed, slamming the notebook shut. “Last time you said that you don’t believe in something we got ambushed and barely escaped with our lives.”   
“Hey, you got a medal and a promotion out of that, I’d say it was a win some, lose some situation!”

Sapnap and George were two fellow children Dream has met in solitary confinement while he was deciding if he’d like to be executed or join the dwindling ranks of the army. Both of them were in the same situation as him – attempted to escape, got caught, got given a choice. All of them chose to live; some of them for different reasons than others. Over the past six years, they have become a unit that was feared and respected – three children, unseen until they strike, and when they do, they are deadly and efficient.   
Still, they were just kids, and on evenings like that one, they were full of dreams and smiles 

“Anyways-” George shifted, making himself comfortable on the freshly-grown grass. “North. I want to see what’s that land all about. Want to come with me?” he asked, his head turned towards Dream. The boy was silent.   
It was hard for him to admit that he was attached to this place – to the grassy plains, to the thick forest, to the rock by the village. Still, it has been six years; if there was any time to heal and move on, it was now. 

He felt guilty, yes, and he would probably always feel so, but his heart was beating, and he was alive; for as long as he will be so, Tubbo will be on his back, blubbering nonsense.   
Dream set down his sword, the gem embedded in the hilt signifying the rank of a sergeant. 

“Sure.” 

*** 

_What is a man to do when he becomes a king?_

The backpack was heavy, but Dream’s heart was light as they passed the border of the cursed land, one that no one lived in, one that laid abandoned for eons, as if it was waiting just for them. It was completely silent aside from calls of animals distressed by their sudden entrance into their territory – still, with swords by their sides they were undefeatable, nineteen-year-olds with great plans and skill to make them happen. 

Their new home, and hopefully home to others in the future – to people hurt by wars, to people abandoned by ones they loved, to people lost in life. Dream wanted to create a land that his brother would be happy to live in, had he still been there. He wanted him to be proud of who he has become; that was the best apology he could offer him at the moment. 

“Dibs on the name.” Sapnap elbowed Dream in the ribs, and the latter let out a silent ‘ouch’, following it up with a quiet laugh. “Sapnapland.”   
“Oh, absolutely not.” George chimed up from the front, where he was cutting down vines and smaller bushes that obstructed their way. “I was thinking about something along the lines of ‘Freeshire’? You know, city of the free?”   
“What the fuck even is a ‘Freeshire’, it sounds like food.”   
“You think Sapnapland sounds better?” 

Dream’s face softened. He was glad to have two of his friends by his side – he didn’t know how far would he have made it without them, and he was thankful for every look and every word spoken towards him. It made him feel less alone, less guilty, and on a good night, it even allowed him to sleep peacefully and have pleasant dreams. The dark, depressing spot in the back of his head seemed almost gone these days, and he just needed to push a little bit further to fully absolve himself of his childhood sin. 

“How about we don’t name it at all?” he spoke, and both Sapnap and George looked in his direction, surprised. “It’s supposed to be for everyone, after all. You can call it however you want.” he smiled from under the mask, and George simply shrugged with a sigh, dragging Sapnap to the front to help him clear the road.   
“Whatever you wish, sergeant.” he laughed, teasing him with the rank he abandoned back at the barracks a couple of years ago.   
“That’s gonna be one hundred push-ups, Corporal.”   
“What? No! That’s so unfair, what about Sapnap?”   
“I didn’t hear him talking back!” 

A loud laugh carried across the forest. 

Maybe home was closer than he thought. 

*** 

_What is a man to do when the fog disappears?_

Dream’s fingers tightened around the ID that Tommy handed him; if he put any more pressure on the piece of parchment, he would have broken it. 

The Land, as Dream lovingly called it, opened its borders a couple of weeks ago, and so far, aside from him, Sapnap and George, no one sought shelter – that was a good thing, that meant no one needed it, that meant no one was getting actively hurt.   
One day, however, a boy with a mop of blonde hair, disheveled clothes and an obvious limp in his step (was he running away from somebody? Dream remembers gripping his sword so tightly that his knuckles turned white.) appeared at the border, asking for asylum. It was granted to him, of course, even though he called Dream a bitch a couple of times and attacked George when the man tried to escort him inside, but as he walked away, he pressed a couple of papers into his hand. 

“They might come by,” he muttered, and Dream raised an eyebrow under his mask. “Please help them out too.”   
“Of course.” 

The papers laid forgotten in his pocket for a while, waiting for their moment to shine as Dream plucked them out in the moonlight, during his usual patrol of the perimeter. He shuffled through the IDs - Purpled, Punz, Fundy; all three of them came from the area that he and his friend abandoned for the sake of creating The Land. The man frowned. Hopefully, no strife was happening back at his home turf – the war has just ended, and people were still healing. They couldn’t possibly handle another conflict in such a short amount of time. 

He flipped the last ID, and the moment his eyes landed on the picture attached, he felt his heart drop to his stomach. Brown hair, blue eyes, freckles, and the same goddamn smile he abandoned at the rocks all these years ago. Something clawed at his entrails, and his eyes jumped from the photo to the personal information. 

Dream swore his heart exploded, flooding his lungs since for a second he forgot how to speak and how to breathe. 

Tubbo Soot, (17)   
Under the care of Philza Soot   
Resident of ---------------------- 

He gasped for breath that wasn’t there, and his vision spun, the image in front of him blurring up like a faded newspaper clipping or a book that has been dropped into water. He read the name over and over again as if he suddenly lost his mind and forgot how to read. There was no date of birth, no relatives other than this Philza, no official number that is given to children at birth. 

Dream didn’t want hope to bloom in his chest, but it was there, already rooting in his ribcage and crushing his organs with an agony that felt euphoric. His brother was alive. His brother survived in the forest, somehow, and he was now possibly coming to The Land – right to him. For the first time in almost fourteen years, Dream wept like a child, his loud sobs carrying into the forest, the moon being the only witness to his tears. 

*** 

_What is a man to do when he’s trapped between a rock and a hard place?_

Two months passed until another refugee crossed the border of The Land. His name was Fundy, and he informed Dream that two others would be arriving within hours. Dream was vibrating with excitement the entire day, proclaiming to, quite shocked, George and Sapnap that he would take both the day and night patrol at the border. They agreed, of course – who were they to say to free 24 hours? That was precious time they could put into building the Community House in the center of the residential area. 

Sure enough, just a few hours later two men who called themselves Purpled and Punz approached the border, beaten and bruised, supporting each other as they walked. They thanked Dream profusely for helping them but shook their heads no when they were asked about anyone else being on their way. As Dream and Sapnap both tended to the wounds the newcomers suffered, the ex-sergeant grew more and more restless. He wanted to see Tubbo, he wanted to see his baby brother so badly – still, he wasn’t there. 

He was tying the final knot on Purpled’s bandage when the sound of the alarm bell pierced his ears, and he shot up from his seated position on the bed with a start. He didn’t hear Sapnap’s distressed question as he dashed out of the house and ran towards the border. 

When was the last time he ran so fast? 

There was a figure standing at the border, tense, but not crossing the thick yellow line him and George placed there when they were first establishing The Land. They jumped up when they saw Dream running at them, and they were seconds away from booking it back into the forest they came out of before Dream shouted out, his mouth so dry he swore his tongue drew blood. 

“Tubbo?!” he called out and the figure stopped, turning to face the incoming entity. He stopped. That meant that was his name. It was his brother. It had to be. “Don’t run! It’s okay!” he added, noticing that the boy’s shoulders were still tense, and the fingers that were clutching the strap of his bag were slowly turning white. He finally arrived at the border and took just a split second to catch his breath, before looking Tubbo up and down. 

He was lean but much shorter than him – there were at least 20 centimeters of difference between them as they faced each other. Just as on the picture on his ID, he had brown, wild hair, blue eyes, and freckles that peppered his face (they both had freckles and it made Dream unreasonably happy). He didn’t have any visible wounds or scars – good. Good. That’s one worry off his back. 

“Hello!” Tubbo spoke, and Dream was thankful that he was wearing his mask because he swore that his eyes teared up. “Who are you?” 

_Oh._

Figures he wouldn’t remember him after sixteen years. Still, it stung just the tiniest bit. 

“The name’s Dream.” he introduced himself, extending his hand for Tubbo to shake. “I am technically the owner of The Land, but it’s really every man for himself here. All I can offer is protection from outside forces,” he explained, and Tubbo smiled in realization. The boy placed his hand in Dream’s and shook it; it was rough and calloused, a mark of a swordsman. What kind of life did his brother have to live for his hands to turn to this? 

“It’s a pleasure to meet you Dream! Love the mask, such a nice detail. Has Tommy arrived safely? I felt mightly bad about having him go ahead of me, but the situation was dire and I don’t think there was any other way-” Tubbo was chattering on and on as he continued to shake Dream’s hand, and the man couldn’t help but smile, unnoticed by the boy. “-can I see him? If he’s here of course.”   
“Absolutely!” Dream exclaimed, and, having let go of Tubbo’s hand (already missing the warmth of his fingers; his own hands were always so cold) he began walking back towards the house he previously ran from.   
“Thank you!” Tubbo laughed as he followed, having to take two steps while Dream took one to keep up. “He’s my family, I was so worried about him.”   


That part of the sentence didn’t sit right with Dream. 

“Your brother, maybe?” he asked and hoped for a negative answer. Still, Tubbo beamed, and with a wide smile on his face exclaimed;   
“Yeah! I mean, kinda.” he rubbed the back of his neck nervously, and something formed in Dream’s throat. He didn’t like the feeling. “Tommy’s dad took me in after he found me abandoned near a road. I was sitting in a box, you know! Like a lost dog!” he continued laughing, and the lump in Dream’s throat grew, pressing against his vocal cords. Guilt. It was guilt that came back to haunt him, and any will to reveal himself as his older brother was now gone. He wouldn’t be able to handle the pain that came with that statement, nor would he be able to explain his reasons for what he did; no one would believe such a sob story. 

Thus, with a lump in his throat, and a hole in his heart, he asked the only question that came to his mind at that moment. 

“Did they treat you well?”   
“Of course! I had a very happy childhood!”   
“Good. That’s good.”   
  
*** 

_What is a man to do when his heart yearns but his mind refuses?_

The Land was getting more and more lively. People hurt by injustice, war, and strife trickled into the borders one by one, each thanking Dream, Sapnap, and George in their own way. Some of the more surprising guests included Sam, Ponk, and Bad, fellow soldiers who escaped duty, explaining it with injustice within the ranks. Dream didn’t question them, instead welcoming all three into The Land. 

It was starting to feel like home, even more so when he knew that his brother that he thought he lost was right there, with him, at his side. He often watched him from afar, when he chatted with Tommy, made new friends, built his own house, befriended animals – he was a gentle soul in a gentle body, and with a smile, Dream realized that Tubbo grew up to be a good human being, just like he wished he would when he carried him on his back for hundreds of kilometers. Still, there was something in the way he moved, in the way he handled weapons and tools that hinted at the fact that he had to fight for his survival at least once in his life. These instincts didn’t come from nowhere. 

Yet, Dream never pried into Tubbo’s backstory. He needed to gain his trust back, and before that happened, he couldn’t call himself someone worthy of being his brother. 

On one spring afternoon, while Dream was doing his usual tasks around The Land, he caught his brother talking to Tommy. Tommy wasn’t Dream’s favorite person, and Dream wasn’t Tommy’s best friend; that was fine. Unfortunately, the ex-solider was also a logically thinking human being, who realized that perhaps being in Tommy’s company wasn’t the best way for Tubbo’s personality to develop, especially in the light of the fact that ever since Tubbo arrived, ninety percent of the time he was talking about Tommy. 

Dream wanted Tubbo to become his own person, and not just ‘Tommy’s friend’. 

Thus, he stopped to listen. Just for a moment. Just to feel out what kind of things Tommy is telling his brother when no one is listening. 

“-yeah, I got a letter from dad the other day. He and Techno moved up north, to where the icebergs and shit are.”   
Oh, he walked into the middle of the conversation. Oops. Sorry, not sorry.   
“That’s so cool! I always wanted to see the North Pole!” Tubbo cheered, and for a moment a smile appeared on Dream’s face. “Didn’t Phil say that it’s where his family came from?”   
“Right on, his dad lived there or something. Imagine living in the snow your whole life, couldn’t be me.” Tommy chimed in, and Tubbo laughed. It was a good sound, pure, like wind chimes in a breeze. “Do you reckon your family lived somewhere else before they moved?” 

It was silent for a moment, and a familiar feeling of guilt squeezed Dream’s heart as he leaned back against the tree he was hiding behind. Just keep listening, you dumb idiot. It can’t possibly hurt you more than the things you already accepted as your fault. 

“I do think so yes. After all, Phil said he found me on the side of the road. They must have found me a liability. I don’t blame them. Maybe they were running away?” he muttered, but his shoulders were hunched. 

Dream wanted to comfort him.   
He didn’t deserve it. 

“Still, I do think that they loved me. I remember I had a brother? I don’t remember my mom and dad though.” Tubbo suddenly said, his expression much softer than before.   
“How can you remember that? I don’t think you can remember things from when you were an infant.” the boy next to him sneered, and for a moment a dark look flickered on Tubbo’s face.   
“No, I definitely do remember my brother. He carried me around a lot, and he sang to me often. I also have that photo Phil found me with – there's this kid holding an infant right-” he pulled out a tattered photo from his pocket and pointed to a well-known spot with his finger. “-here. I think that’s him, and the baby it’s me.”   
“Why is there so many of you, though?” Tommy asked, and Tubbo hummed in response, his fingers gently brushing over the surface of the photograph.   
“I don’t know. Maybe it was a preschool?” 

_It was an orphanage, Tubbo. We were abandoned Tubbo. We only had each other, Tubbo._

These were the thoughts that pressed against Dream’s teeth, threatening to spill. 

“I don’t know what’s his name. It’s been so long – sixteen years, right? I just hope he’s doing okay.” 

These were the words that spilled the glass of wine, and Dream left soundlessly, his chest threatening to fall apart if he listened any longer. 

***   
_What is a brother to do when he stands against his own kin?_

Dream should have never let Wilbur Soot within the borders. Ever since he joined the group, something brewed within The Land, boiling beneath the cheery surface. He caught Wilbur, Tommy, and Tubbo sharing knowing glances ofter, and the fact that he barely saw Eret or Fundy anymore didn’t help his suspicions. 

George dismissed Dream’s worries with a wave of his hand, claiming that they must be off somewhere building something, and Sapnap did the same, telling him to worry about the upcoming hunting season more. Still, Dream couldn’t help but wonder what was going on as Tubbo avoided his eyes when passing him, sowing a seed of unrest in his mind. 

He wanted to trust him. 

And he still did, even when he was busting yet another drug operation that came from under Wilbur’s hands, he believed that Tubbo was just a victim of circumstance. 

The walls appeared. 

Wilbur Soot, that cocky motherfucker, showed up at his door in the early morning, waving a paper in his face, claiming independence for what he called L’Manberg. Independence or death, he said, and Dream really wanted to give him the second option. Remembering that because of Tommy’s participation Tubbo would probably be on the other side of the conflict, he brought out all reason he had within his body, reminding Wilbur that The Land is a country for everyone and that establishing a government within an autonomous zone like that would be the exact opposite of Land’s purpose. After much thought, he brought forward what he thought was a reasonable solution; as long as L'Manberg still remains a part of The Land and is not independent, L'Manberg will not be attacked and Tommy's home can act as an embassy. 

Wilbur Soot just had to say no. 

Dream hated wars, but to keep the peace he did what he had to do. He fought, he killed, he planted explosives under the so-called country, and still, time after time they crawled out like rats from under the rubble, striking him again and again, demanding independence. 

It was starting to get annoying, so he made deal with the power-hungry Eret; a title of the King of The Land in exchange for his cooperation. The trap within the final control room was set, and he waited with battered breath to end the idiocy of “claiming independence” within his own land. 

Then Sapnap killed Tubbo. 

It was a moment of bloodlust really; all of the L’Manbergians in the room died, but it somehow escaped Dream’s mind that his brother would be amongst them. Thus, as Sapnap thrust his blade into Tubbo’s chest, taking his first life, out of three given to him by God, he directed his anger towards Wilbur and decimated his body in an overwhelmingly one-sided fight. 

He left before the bodies were carried out. 

He didn’t sleep for many days after that. 

Was that the price of peace? 

***   
_What is a man to do when he fears death?_

During the festival he watched Tubbo die again, his body torn apart by fireworks in what most likely was agony unimaginable to man. One life left, Tubbo was always on the front of his mind, and when the war between Manburg and Pogtopia was unavoidable, he took to the frontlines, on the opposite side of the barricade, hoping to cool down the conflict at least a little bit. 

Shlatt dying of a fucking heart attack the moment he proclaimed that they were surrendering helped a lot. Good riddance. 

His brother was made president (the smidge of pride in his chest not going unnoticed), and then everything went to shit again when Wilbur Soot decided to sign his death sentence by pressing the button on L’Manburg and having his father end his life on the spot. Technoblade, another one of the cursed siblings unleashed ancient beasts on the city. 

And Dream just walked away. Tubbo was safe, L’Manberg was taught a lesson, and that was it. They would think twice before they sparked another conflict, and that meant no more strife, The Land open to newcomers once again. 

The entire nation enjoyed that moment of peace. Tubbo led the rebuilding effort, and Dream even helped out from time to time, growing closer to the president by giving him compliment after a compliment, aiding him where his knowledge didn’t reach, and keeping him company when piles of papers turned out to be too tall for a kid. There was only one problem, and that problem’s name was Tommy; with both of his brothers gone, he was now uncontrollable. 

In a flash of genius, he decided to burn down the king’s estate. For that, he was exiled. 

Simple. 

Tubbo made a good decision, and he was sure to mention that to him when he returned from dragging Tommy away from The Land. They played chess that night. 

Things were finally looking up. 

*** 

It was one of these evenings where Tubbo, buried in paperwork, talked the entire night away with Dream, who, lounged on the couch in the corner of the room, polished his sword. The pen scratched against the paper, and the smaller boy droned on and on about the chess tournament he, Fundy, and Ranboo – another kid who was going to run against him in an election, apparently - were trying to organize. The fireplace in the corner roared, and Dream found comfort in the crackling, the warmth relaxing his joints and drooping his eyelids. 

“I was thinking you could participate. You’re really good!” Tubbo mused, tapping his cheek with the pen he was holding, leaving black dots on his already freckled skin. “I mean, I think I could beat you if I try, but our styles are just so similar, you make me think so hard.” he laughed and dream smiled. It was pleasant, the atmosphere in the room. Tommy was far away, enjoying his solitude with his dead older brother, L’Manberg was in capable hands. 

Has he repented enough? Was it a good moment to ask? 

“Dream, I don’t know how to tell you this; oh, this is going to sound silly, but-” Tubbo suddenly straightened in his chair, locking his eyes with the dots on the mask. “-have we met before? Before I came here, I mean. You're so familiar and yet I'm painfully aware that I just met you recently...” 

It was silent in the room for a moment, the only sound being the low buzz of the fire and the wind shaking the branches of L’Mantree behind the window. Dream’s head was completely empty at that moment. Now or never, you failure of a brother. 

“Yes.” he said, standing up from the couch. His breath was shallow as he walked up to the wall on which Tubbo hung the photo he was carrying with himself for sixteen years. He touched the glass gently before retracting his hand to the back of his head, untying the string that kept his mask attached to his face. It fell down to the floor with a clunk, and Tubbo leaned forward in his chair, confused. 

His breath stopped when blue eyes met green. 

Dream’s face was in shambles. It was the nicest way to describe it, and Tubbo has never seen such carnage on someone’s skin before. He himself had scars; from the fireworks, from the sword, but Dream? Claw marks and tears across his entire face that looked like they were badly treated on purpose disfigured his face in a way that the original features were barely recognizable. How badly did that have to hurt when he was injured? Tubbo flinched at the mere thought of that. 

“Why... Why show me this?” he asked, and Dream’s face took on such a serene and peaceful expression, that something in Tubbo’s chest shifted in a way he didn’t feel for a long time.   
“Around sixteen years ago, Tubbo, I was stuck in a war camp.” Dream spoke, carefully choosing his words, not willing to fuck up the only chance he had. Tubbo listened, the pen long forgotten, rolling across the birch floor. “I wasn’t alone though, yeah. I had my younger brother with me, one that I have been traveling with since our orphanage burned down.” 

Something started to click in Tubbo’s head, and his nails dug into the desk. His chest was very hot. 

“I made a big mistake, I think, back then.” Dream leaned on the desk, his eyes still locked with Tubbo’s, and the younger noticed with a start that the man who towered over him in every way possible had freckles – lost under the scarred tissue but still visible. “I tried to run away with my brother, and I almost made it. He was a heavy kid, and I decided to leave him hidden near a rock formation and return for him when I lost the pursuers.” Dream choked up a bit, masking it with an awkward cough into his fist. Tubbo didn’t realize he stood up, the chair falling to the ground with a clatter. “I got caught, obviously. The dogs got to me and I still don’t know how I survived with all of... this.” he pointed to his face with a gentle smile. 

“Wait... Dream..” Tubo stuttered out, but the man continued to speak, his voice now much softer, full of something indescribable, overwhelming. 

“They made me choose between being executed and becoming a literal child solider, god, that was fucked up,” he spoke, and his eyes glazed over just for a moment. “And then I came back to the rock, months later, and my brother was gone, with all the things I left with him. Even the damn box was gone. For sixteen years I lived mourning my brother, blaming myself for his death, and praying to god that never listened for forgiveness.” 

The room was so silent that you could hear the house creaking at the foundations. Tubbo was completely pale by this point, and Dream sighed, his expression not once changing from never-ending adoration. 

Love. There was love in his voice. 

“And then you walked right up to the border, Tubbo.” he whispered, and it was like a gunshot in Tubbo’s ears. “And I broke.” 

“You broke?”   
“I shattered to pieces. I don’t think I’ve put myself back yet.” he added bitterly. 

It took him a second to process that Tubbo was no longer behind the desk. Understandable, he didn’t want to talk to him. He did abandon him in the snow like a coward. At least he had it off his chest. 

Then, a pair of arms wrapped themselves around his torso. Tubbo was shaking as he hugged him, his face buried in Dream’s shirt. 

“Tubbo-”   
“Shut the fuck up.” He choked his voice breaking. Dream felt moisture on his clothes; Tubbo was crying. “Just shut the fuck up.” 

Dream’s arms hovered awkwardly over the smaller form before he relaxed his posture and buried his face in the crown of Tubbo’s hair, hooking his arms around his shoulders. He smelled like campfires and paper; it was a scent both nostalgic and new, and the dam finally broke as Dream let out a loud sob, his arms tightening around his brother who died and came back to him, punishment and prize. They stayed in that equilibrium for a while, until they couldn’t cry anymore, and their voices grew rough from sobbing. 

They didn’t have to talk about this that night. 

They had all the time in the world now, after all. 

***

_What is a man to do when he finds solace in what he thought he lost?_

He finally attains true happiness.


End file.
